Capitlizing on His Strengths

The warm-up question was What superpower would you like and how could you use it to help the world?

At 8 a.m. my homeroom students were so bleary that many could not think of a thing, or so they claimed. "All right," I told them skeptically, "but everyone needs an answer before the bell rings, otherwise you can come at lunch and we can brainstorm ideas together."

The implicit threat got them talking a little, all except A. who was busy eating his breakfast long after the time to finish it had passed. As he lifted the spoonful of cereal to his mouth, we made eye contact, and I raised my eyebrows to remind him to eat quietly, a conversation we have had many times this year.

When class was almost over, I started asking about superpowers. Some chose telekinesis, others invisibility, and still others super strength or super speed. As A. got up to throw his tray away, I asked him what superpower he wanted.

"Oh," he answered, "I'd want to be a super slurper." 

I laughed out loud at such an unexpected idea, but one of the girls who sits at the same table with him sighed. "Oh A," she said, "that is the last thing you need!"

Archaic

The suffix was -wise and the example word was clockwise in the vocabulary lesson I taught today.

"Do you know what that word means?" I asked the class, and most of the kids nodded. They understood that the hands on an analog clock go around in a certain direction, and so "clockwise" meant rotating to the right. They understood this, even though many of them were unable to actually tell the time using an analog clock. 

"It's too hard," explained one student. "I have to look at the numbers and the lines and count them."

"Yeah," one of her classmates agreed. "It takes a long time to figure it out."

I glanced at the clock and noted the time; it was automatic for me. "I guess knowing how to tell analog time is like speaking another language," I offered. "The more fluent you are, the easier it is to read. Then one day you don't even have to think about it anymore."

"But I can just look at my phone," the first student shrugged, and I wondered how long clockwise would stay in our language.

The Heart Grows Fonder

Usually going back to school after several days away stresses me out, and I toss and turn fitfully the night before my return. That was not the case last night, though. I slept quite soundly, confident that I was prepared for my reentry, despite having to tweak my lessons from past years. And the day went very well-- I was happy to see the kids, and they seemed pleased to have me back. Plus, the feedback from the substitutes was all positive; something unheard of, especially in recent years. I felt more comfortable in the job than I have so far this year, which is weird but certainly not unwelcome.

Sweet Home

Bread is rising.
Greens are blanched.
Garlic is roasted.
Peppers are drying.
Beans are soaked.
Tests are graded.
Lessons are planned.
Fire is started.

And there is still a lot more to catch up on, but it sure is good to be home.

Calling In

We breezed home from Buffalo in record time today. In fact, we were about 5 miles from home before the idea of heavy traffic or a delay even occurred to me. "Hey!" I turned to Heidi, "Can you believe it? The roads have been--"

Just then the map app blinked and blue turned to yellow as I hit the brakes for the first time in our whole trip.

But we still made it back in under 7 hours!

One Final Event

For loved ones, the details and demands of planning any funeral are likely to be emotionally exhausting. But a full-on traditional, Buffalo-style Catholic funeral is even more so, if possible.

In the past week, we have planned and attended three sessions of open-casket visiting hours, a full funeral mass, a procession to the cemetery, a graveside service, and finally, a memorial celebration for 30 people at Heidi's dad's favorite restaurant tonight. 

And, as much as everyone is looking forward to returning to their everyday lives, getting some rest, and beginning to navigate a new normal without Gary, when everything is all over? It's really over. 

And that will be hard.

Hatters Gonna Hat, Part 2

Coincidentally the only hat I brought with me to Buffalo has a similar origin story to the one I wrote about yesterday, which my mother-in-law gave to me. When my high school friend, Amy, was in town back in the spring, she too presented me with a handmade cap. “I thought you would like this,” she explained, and I did. 

“I made it for myself,” she continued, “but I hated it.”

I laughed and placed it on my head so that she could snap a photo. Afterwards, it sat out by itself, because all the winter gear had already been stored away for the season. And when I packed for this trip, the cold weather stuff was still in the attic, but for the gloves in the jacket pockets and my hand-me-down hat from Amy, so I put it on and headed north.

And I know that even though they didn’t start out that way, both hats were clearly meant for me.